Fallout Equestria: Once Upon a Time in the Waste

by S-Clark

Chapter 2: Scrublands Drifter

Fallout Equestria: Once Upon a Time in the Waste
Written and Illustrated By SparkusClark

Chapter Two: Scrublands Drifter
“When you hear a strange sound, drop to the ground.”

I nudged the corpse with my hoof.

Not much was left of the dead unicorn that Tiny had said was my travelling companion. Even the smell wasn’t so bad. After the dry heat and hungry creatures her coat was a dark, matted red. Bright orange strands of hair clung to what had been her neck. Unless buzzards had started growing manes this was the only clue as to what she may have looked like.

“Hope you don’t mind,” I spoke to the corpse as I rummaged through her saddlebags.

I quickly found out that somepony had already gone been by and picked her clean. Carrion eaters had torn up her leather armor too much for it to be of any use. She had been wearing a leg holster, which I found a little ways away from the body. It was damaged and would need to be repaired. Not here though, I knew I needed to get moving before the temperature started climbing.

I turned my attention to the dead brahmin. It lay on its side not far from the dead mare with one head curled towards its chest. I couldn’t find the other head, but I didn’t waste time looking either. Searching the pack proved… I couldn’t think of the word I wanted to use, but I had the feeling it had something to do with a kind of food. Not remembering words was becoming a real annoyance. It didn’t matter anyways as there was nothing left in the pack.

Sitting back I frowned at the carcass as a notion stirred in my noggin. The heavy cow was on her side; I could still see traces of the blood and viscera that had dried around it. That meant… what did it mean? Studying the scene, my eyes darted between each part of the picture before me, and the thought came together in a weird, disjointed kind of way:

It means the body hasn’t been moved.

I rose to my hooves and trotted to the far side of the corpse. Sure enough, I could see a second bulky pack pinned beneath her dead mass. Getting it out was more difficult than I would have liked, given all of the rope. Merchants, it seems, like to make sure that not even Celestia herself can move their wares. Eventually I had to use the hunting knife to cut the pack off completely. By that time my muscles were sore and I was drenched in sweat. I took a long drink before inspecting my prize.

I couldn’t believe the number of useless items: empty soda bottles; pieces of scrap metal; some sort of metal plug with a lightning bolt on it; clear rubber tubing; and even a square tin with two wheels sealed inside.

The last one looked familiar; there was some black tape wrapped around one of the wheels, but seeing as how it wasn’t food or water or medicine, I tossed it aside.

At least my efforts had paid off. I now had three more bottles of water, which were warm, but I wasn’t picky. Extra food consisted of two cans of Cram and a blobby green pod that I somehow recognized as a yucca fruit. The word ‘fruitless’ popped into my head, but I let it slip aside, too busy inspecting a pair of bottles with a vivid purple liquid inside. The labels read ‘health potion.’ A variety of bullets was a nice discovery, but finding that twelve fit my gun was even more pleasant. I loaded my revolver and one of the speedloaders.

I decided to abandon the bullets that hadn’t fit, just to make sure my bags never became overburdened. There was also a piece of skin-leather that I could use to repair the holster. The final prize was a pack of cigarettes. I didn’t even think twice about them.

Smoke curled into the air as I nodded to the dead brahmin. “Much obliged.”

Rising to my hooves, I considered my options. I had only been outside of Tiny’s cave for an hour. The air was dry and with the sun climbing higher in the sky, the little gauge in the corner of my eye was starting to rise. I was still getting used to the Everything Up-Ahead. Along with the temperature gauge it was also floating a compass, a clock, and a number of other meters in my vision. I looked in the direction it said was west. Nothing but a trail made of metal and wood running into the yellow-browns of the open scrubland. A pull on my cigarette, an exhale of smoke; I looked east, almost lazily recalling the word for the trail in front of me. The railroad stretched towards the horizon and I could just make out an immense structure of some kind. I shaded my eyes with a hoof and squinted. No good.

Then I remembered the hat. Maybe I should have felt foalish about forgetting something so simple, but then again, I’d had an elderly buffalo pull a bullet from my head. I was digging through my saddlebag when a little cartoon buffalo appeared in my vision. Wearing thick glasses and a pair of coveralls with a ‘B’ on the side, it asked me if I was looking for something in my inventory. Tiny hadn’t told me much about how I was supposed to use the PipBull.

“Uhm, hat?” I asked aloud.

There was a beeping from my PipBull as a list of items quickly spooled across the screen. It stopped on the one labeled ‘Hat, Foldable’ and the little buffalo proudly told me the item(s) had been found for retrieval. I stood and waited for the hat to appear, feeling more ridiculous with each passing moment.

“So how am I supposed to get the thing?” I grumbled.

The little buffalo’s words scrolled across my vision:

Please retrieve the item from your bag(s)/pack(s)/satchel(s).

I had a feeling this was going to get old very quickly. I cautiously poked my nose into a saddlebag and bit down on the first thing that brushed my lips. Low and behold, it was the hat, neatly folded too. Sparing a wary glance for the magical PipBull, I shook the hat open and flipped it onto my head. A little wriggling to make sure I tucked my ears through the two holes in the brim, and it sat comfortably enough.

I peered eastward again to find the world much clearer with the brim shading my eyes. Now I could easily make out a tower in the distance. Thin and white, it rose into the sky to pierce the clouds. Waves of shimmery heat obscured the base, but I could just make out a strip of green surrounding the foundation.

To the south of me were the high rocky hills that hid Tiny’s cave, the north was nothing but dry rolling plains with withered, overgrown vegetation.

Which way did he go?

I took another pull on my cig and regarded my two friends. The mare was splayed on the ground, her neck twisted towards the northeast. What was left of the brahmin was facing due west. Now that I looked at it, I noticed the large hole in its head, right between the eyes. I nudged the skull and listened to the faint rattling sound from within. I wondered how long she’d lasted with only one head. Probably just long enough to cause trouble. If so, a smart pony would have shot both at the same time, and she’d have died where she stood, facing west. So we would have been coming from the east. I felt my thoughts stir up again as I put together the pictures of that night.

We hadn’t been running from the unicorn, because you took a brahmin for extra supplies, not speed. He and his friends had been here ahead of us to set up an ambush. Must have hidden in the low ditch that ran along the far side of the tracks. If they had been amongst the rocks on the other side, they would have found Tiny’s cave. In the darkness, it wouldn’t have been that hard to stay out of sight until we were almost on top of them.

So south was out, since they hadn’t bothered Tiny. Across the tracks to the north I could just make out a range of mountains in the distance. The E.U.A also showed several wandering red bars in that direction. Now I still hadn’t finagled the specifics of the PipBull, but I got the distinct impression that red did not mean anything friendly.

Not to mention that the rolling plains looked quite devoid of any kind of settlement. A railway, on the other hoof, lead somewhere. Even if it was an abandoned town, it meant more chances of meeting other ponies; and ponies, or even buffalo, meant more chances of finding the grey unicorn. Which left me with either east or west.

East had the curious tower and the possibility that the unicorn had set out from there early in order to wait for us; west just looked empty by comparison, though I felt a certain tugging in my gut the longer I looked that way. A decision needed to be made. I scratched at the bristles of my growing mane while considering my options. My thoughts, so active up till that point, drifted away one by one until I was left with only silence. Then, with the slowness of uncertainty, I pulled out a bottle of water and, holding it in my hooves, I looked to the sky.

‘Luna,’ I implored in the quiet of my mind, ‘Goddess of fortunes, dreams and fate, heed my words in your daylight slumber. Your guidance I seek.’ With that I tossed the plastic bottle as high as I could. It spun leisurely through the air as it reached the top of its ark, and plummeted back to earth. I rose to my hooves, and went to inspect my fate.

“Hmph,” I grunted in a puff of smoke.

That settled it, I was headed west.

I drank the water down, considered the empty bottle, and, seeing as how it weighed next to nothing, stored it away for later use. About to leave, I paused for a moment and thought about the mare and the brahmin. Should I say something? I thought for a moment and realized that there was no need. Dead was dead, and they had been that way for some time. Besides, I had already thanked them for the supplies.

All the same, I tapped the brim of my hat to them before heading down the rails.

***

Most of the day I kept to a simple trot. Somehow I knew that exerting too much energy would only kill me faster, especially when the thermostat rose to sweltering levels. Outside of the heat I found I was actually enjoying myself. The rocky hills had sloped off further to the south, leaving me surrounded by the expansive reddish-browns of the scrubland. The wind blew in occasional gusts; not enough to keep me cool, but the sharp, dry air it provided filled my lungs, tasting of heat and sage.

The PipBull, on the other hoof, was starting to get on my nerves. Tiny may have meant… well I don’t know what he meant in giving it to me. It was bulky, cumbersome, and the copper colored metal practically soaked up the heat. The E.U.A. was quickly becoming more of a nuisance than anything.

The thing would let me “see” if there were creatures up ahead; but never told me what they were or even how far away I was from them. More than once I approached ‘friendly’ yellow bars, only to find a flock of crows and, at one point, a coyote watching me in the distance. The way he was grinning, I could have sworn he was laughing at me. The only red bar I saw was from a large, hairless rodent with a huge set of buck teeth. It was about twenty yards out from the railway. I tensed up as I watched it, but it was more interested in trying to eat a barrel cactus. After a while I realized the thing wasn’t going to bother me, and since I wasn’t going to bother it, I left.

Eventually I clamped my eyes shut and thought about the E.U.A. switching off. I opened my eyes to find my vision clear just like Tiny had said. Relaxing a little, I popped open another bottle of water and downed it. My continued survival in mind, I decided to find some shade to spend the worst of the afternoon in.

***

Shelter came in the form of a small area tucked under a rocky outcropping. I lay with the patterned blanket draped around my haunches. After being in the heat for so long, the coolness of the exposed stone was bracing and uncomfortable on my bare hide. With nothing else to pass the time while I waited out the heat, I decided to get a closer look at my PipBull.

I was surprised that something so weighty wasn’t all edges and angles; its smooth finish began with a thin cuff near my knee and tapered down to a thicker one near my fetlock. The interface was a little awkward since the switches and dials had been designed for folks with cloven rather than solid hooves. The screen gave off a dull sepia tone as I tried to scroll through the different menus.

“Hmm,” I read aloud, “‘repair function provides a full three dimensional blueprint of the selected weapon or ite-’”

The sound of shifting rocks and dirt caught my attention. I was halfway to my hooves before I spotted the coyote settling itself atop a large boulder. My little alcove was several yards from the railway, and my friend had chosen a perch almost half that distance away. I stayed where I was, my eyes locked on his, my muscles tense, I wondered if I should have grabbed the gun case. After a moment or so he yawned, lazily displaying a set of pointed fangs, but made no sign of moving.

“Crazy,” I muttered, smoothing my blanket back into place. “It’s probably well over a hundred degrees out there.”

He spared me a lazy huff and settled himself into a more comfortable sunbathing position. Had he just laughed at me? For some reason it made me think of the coyote I’d spotted earlier and I peered out at him. If it was the one I’d already seen, I couldn’t tell.

Casting a last wary glance in his direction, I settled back to exploring my PipBull. I had to admit that the thing was very interesting and had quite a number of useful features, beyond those Tiny had mentioned.

Tiny… What had he meant when he told me something about me was “off”?

I shook my head to chase the thought from my mind. If I wanted to find the grey unicorn I couldn’t afford to get distracted. Hoofing at the dial I fumbled it over to the final feature which turned out to be a radio receiver. I skimmed the instructions, which were very basic, flipped the switch and listened as static filled the air; only a word or two coming in over the harsh buzz. Clicking the volume up, I strained my ears to hear what was being said.

Aaaaand... ... afraid that’s ... ... .... .. .... ...... faithful listeners. ... -J Pon3’s got .... ....... t’ do, an’ I .... .. ....... . good week .. ..... .. ..... -efore I ... ... final announce-.... earlier. . ... .... t’ spen- .... time .... ...... -ere in my recor-... ....... -nd startin’ ...... -elve- ........ Equestria- ...... .... be part .. ... .-sical rot-.....

The static crawled and I turned the volume up as far as it would go. Nothing. I tried using a dial to ‘tune’ (new word there) my PipBull to the ‘station’s frequency’ (another new one). Static. Static. Sta-

Music blared louder than anything, which was good, as the lonesome wail of a guitar and the twang of violins covered up my yell of surprise.

Wish I may, I wish contrite,

That my love’d died that night!

Sent his soul up to the sky,

On the wings of pegasi!

Instead he lives within her halls,

Deaf and blind unto my calls.

Cooper’s Hawks my deeds do weigh,

Pleased to take my life away.

I glimpsed the coyote’s wide, tongue-lolling grin as I frantically hoofed at the PipBull’s interface.

“Quit laughing!” I snapped. He was laughing at me this time, I was sure of it.

As I die, you shall not see

The ending of my misery.

Yet shall I watch from stars above,

And someday you will join, my love.

We shall embrace eternally,

No one else just you and m-

Sweet, blissful silence swept in; I’d finally flicked the right switch. The ringing in my ears faded, but music kept playing and, now that I noticed it, the tune was different. The first one had been bitter, forlorn, and angry, while this was more heavy on the oompah-pah noises.

The tinny sound echoed slightly off the rocks but was dampened by the vast emptiness of the scrubland. I was about to bring the E.U.A. back up when I spotted something floating along beside the railway. It was a metal ball the size of my head with a grill on the front; it seemed to have been slapped together with scrap metal and flattened tin cans, a pair of buzzing wings kept it aloft.

Like the hairless rat I’d seen earlier, it was ignoring me, so I shrugged and decided to pull out another cigarette. I had just tucked the lighter away when the music cut off with a static *pop*. I glanced up, expecting to see it stuck in a cactus. I almost jumped when I found it hovering right in front of me. We stared at each other, the weird little machine and I.

I smoked. It hovered. Nothing happened.

“Alright,” I drawled around my cig. “Just don’t sneak up on me again.”

“Wow,” it said, its voice buzzing slightly. “You know, most folks say ‘Hello.’”

I looked back at the silver contraption.

“Well,” it mused, “That or ‘What are you?’ But ‘Don’t sneak up on me’ is a new one.”

I regarded it, or should I suppose the voice was a him? It was difficult to judge the gender of a… “Alright then, ‘What are you?’”

“You could call me 'The Watcher,'” the voice buzzed, “The thing you’re talking to is a sprite-bot.”

“Mm,” I grunted, my gaze had wandered towards where the coyote was relaxing. The thing was watching us with an uncomfortable amount of intelligence bordering on fascination.

I heard the Watcher grumble, something that sounded like, “Well isn’t she a friendly one,” before speaking up again.

“Actually I was wondering what you were doing out here, all alone. It’s not something you see everyday in the Waste. Well,” he amended, bobbing in place, “Not for very long.”

I thought about this before I just shrugged; an expression that had worked for Tiny, and I found it worked for me. “I’m looking for somepony. A grey unicorn with a group of friends.”

“Interesting,” the Watcher floated silently in the air, like he was thinking.

My eyes drifted to the coyote again as I waited and I could have sworn it was frowning.

“Actually,” the Watcher buzzed, “I may be able to help you with that.”

“You don’t say.”

That hung in the air before I looked back at the sprite-bot’s grill. “Really?”

“Err, yes.” The tinny voice replied. “There’s an old sky-carriage maintenance garage not too far up ahead. On a road just off the tracks. A group of ponies live there and get a good view of anyone travelling this way. They might’ve seen this unicorn you’re looking for.”

Something whispered darkly in the back of my mind, but I ignored it, I wasn’t going to pass up on a possible lead. Oddly, a part of me noticed that despite this good news, I wasn’t feeling even a hint of excitement or anticipation.

I nodded to the Watcher, still thinking. “Thanks. Good to know, good to know.”

“Well,” he chirped, sounding enthusiastic for me, “Good luck.” There was another *pop* and the sprite-bot floated away, music blaring to the empty desert.

“Mm,” I replied, watching it flit past the now empty boulder.

My other friend, it appeared, had left as well. I shrugged and settled in to wait for the cooler temperatures the evening would bring.

***

“Hmm,” I rasped aloud.

A couple miles down the railway I’d found the garage the Watcher had said to look for. It was off to the side of a road that crossed the tracks, and in the light of the slowly setting sun, it didn’t look like much. Its paint chipped exterior was grimy and faded, and its cartport listed slightly to one side, but structure itself was intact. The sign on the front read: PersiCo. Fuel and Repair.

What had caught my attention though, was the group of cacti a ways out from the place. They covered a wide swath of ground that started where the rails met the crumbling road and stretched towards the rusted remains of a downed sky carriage. The ones closest to me had flat, green stems about two hooves tall and half again as wide. However, it was the purplish fruit that sent the name fluttering into my head:

Prickly pears.

The name also brought with it some knowledge of the plant, such as how the fruit was edible or could be used to expand my supply of water. I was also quite certain that I would need a pair of tongs or forceps in order to harvest the spiky fruit.

Most of the plants were dead, withered things with only a few still showing signs of life. The ones closest to me looked more... natural than the ones nearest the sky carriage. The stems on those were five times as large and a bright, sickly yellow with spines that, on closer inspection, oozed some sort of fluid. The spineless fruit was about the size of a large apple and a pale pink with dark, angry red veins.

A ticking noise started coming from my PipBull as I got closer to the plants by the sky carriage. Holding up my foreleg, I saw that the needle of a dial marked ‘Rad Meter’ was twitching slightly.

“That’s strange,” I heard myself say.

I shrugged. I didn’t care what the ‘rads’ or these prickly pears were, not really. On the other hoof, information about a certain unicorn, that was at the top of my list of things to find.

Setting my back to the sky carriage and its spilled cargo of rusted, yellow drums, I made my way up to the door of what I figured was the garages’ office. While I could have tried either of the large bay doors, they were so coated in rust that neither of them looked as though they might budge. Looping a fetlock through the handle, I went in.

Light filtered in through dingy windows and a small hole in the ceiling. I blinked as my eyes tried to adjust and found myself in a fairly large room; a low, wooden divider with a gate on one end and a counter on the other ran across the width of the room. It separated me from the four or so desks that stood in two neat rows beyond it.

Grey shadows blurred and I realized that I was not the only pony in here. A dark-blue unicorn buck in piecemeal armor was leaning on the other side of the divider, his back to me. Beyond him, an earth pony mare with an olive-green coat was crouched atop a desk, doing something with a teal stallion positioned beneath her. Even from where I stood I could hear her heavy breathing. It was the orange mare on the far side of the room who looked past her friends and spotted me. Her face broke into a wild grin.

I nodded to her, unsure of what to say, “Err, hello. I was told-”

And that’s when I realized that the E.U.A. had come back on. The words Emergency Automated Display flashed briefly in my vision; there were red bars in front of me. The orange mare had pulled out a rifle and was taking aim, the unicorn’s magic levitated a shotgun from somewhere, even the green earth pony was pulling out a knife.

“Oh-” I started, but the important thoughts had already bypassed my brain, gone straight to my legs, and those sent me tumbling to the floor.

“-shit,” I finished as the rifle cracked. The bullet punched a hole in the door behind me.

I looked up into the muzzle of the shotgun and was rolling before I had time to think. The twin barrels roared. The shots shredded the floor behind me and a mix of pellets and linoleum bit into my side.

Rolling until I hit the wall, I quickly scrambled for shelter under the counter.

“She’s over there!” the buck yelled, the spent shells from his gun flying as his magic popped it open with a ‘chack!’

My head was spinning as I frantically dug through my saddle bags for the case with the Celestia-damned gun in it. Suddenly the little buffalo appeared in my vision again, asking me if I was searching for a new item. I cursed, having forgotten about the inventory management system.

“Yes!” I yelled, “Gun!”

There was a beeping as the items blurred across my screen before stopping on ‘Gun Case, Small.’ I buried my muzzle in my bags, teeth gripping metal just as something heavy landed on the counter above me.

My eyes met the bloodshot ones of the green mare as she grinned down from her perch, a rusty kitchen knife clamped between her teeth. Drool dribbled along the handle as she gave a cackling whinny and launched herself at me. Panicking, I froze and in that moment her knife slid into the spot between my neck and shoulder. It was so sudden I couldn’t even tell if it hurt.

The force of the attack slammed me to the floor, just as momentum pitched her into a tangled somersault and the knife was wrenched from my neck. Now it was beginning to hurt. The case in my mouth muffled any cry I might have made, but I was breathing heavily through my nose. I pressed my hooves to the wound to staunch the bleeding.

The mare giggled as she ran her tongue along the handle of her knife. I tried to stand on blood-dampened hooves but the mare swung at me and I stumbled back, a cut across my muzzle. A blast from the shotgun tore a corner from the counter and peppered me with wooden splinters and shot. Another new hole in the wall reminded me of the hunting rifle. I was caught in the crossfire, no weapon, no time, and the mare was coming at me again with her knife. I did the only thing I could do.

I prayed.

‘To the great Goddesses above:

Yea be I mortal to thine eyes,

Hear my truth in your hearts wise.

I have much to give and none to take,

And ask my life you not forsake.

Guide my hoof as danger cries,

Our heavenly sisters in the skies.’

*sclitch*

The knife buried itself in my chest.

‘Well same to you, ladies,’ I thought bitterly as my knees gave and the mare and I sank to the floor.

I was bloody, beaten, and abandoned.

‘So this is how I die,’ I thought, ‘on my knees and helpless, while my killer smiles down at me… again.’

My ears twitched and I could have sworn I heard a dry susurrus of wings.

‘No,’ I suddenly thought, ‘Not. Again.’

I lashed out at the green mare, no form, no finesse, I just tried to hit her. A kick connected with something soft that made her gasp and loose her grip on the knife; she staggered back cursing, a hoof to her nethers. It looked like Tiny’s guessing game had been useful after all. A look of maniacal rage in her eyes, the mare grabbed an old metal chair and raised it over her head.

And nothing happened.

I blinked as the world froze in place and the little buffalo popped back into my vision. This time he was wearing a helmet of some kind and carrying a gun.

Hello! This is the first time you have just activated the Stable-Tec Arcane Targeting Spell (S.A.T.S). Allow me to help you through the process. Please select a target.

The mare in front of me was now outlined in a yellow glow with a number on her chest, one hundred. She towered over me, ready to deliver a blow.

‘What about the others?’ I wondered.

Thinking about her friends made my vision whip around to center on the buck. His glowing form was levitating the shotgun at me, a number zero on his chest. The same thing happened when I looked at the mare with the hunting rifle. I could even see the casing from her last shot hanging in mid-air. Deciding to deal with the chair-wielder snapped my eyes back around to her.

Remember that choosing to attack a target uses up Arcane Power. You are only able to make a certain number of attacks before you need to let the system recharge.

Glancing at the A.P. bar showed that I had enough power for three attacks. Still unsure of how it would worked, I focused her and watched the meter dropped by a third. Time began to move again, slowly at first, as I found myself lunging to my hooves. Gun case clamped tightly in-between my teeth, I whipped my neck around and struck her in the side, hard.

The spell faded as she screeched and something inside her snapped with a loud crack. The impact wrenched the case from my mouth and sent it crashing against the wall where it sprang open, spilling its contents across the floor. Breath burbling inside my chest and my lungs on fire, I flung myself at the green earth pony. Blood loss made me stumble and I threw out a foreleg to steady myself, catching her around the neck. Momentum yanked us around, putting her between me and the buck just as his shotgun roared. The impact knocked us off our hooves and crashing to the linoleum. I may have cried out again as her weight drove the knife in deeper. She slumped across me and, with her face inches from mine, I saw the manic light fade from her eyes.

*chack*

There wasn’t time for pain or sentiment as I struggled to get out from under the dead mare. Moving made the knife wriggle inside me but I didn’t have much of a choice. Breathing hard I grit my teeth, long legs thrashing as I kicked her aside and clambered to my hooves. I spotted my gun laying in the corner of the room and bolted for it as plaster exploded and the orange pony shrieked.

“Run, piggy! RUN!”

My mouth clamped down on the revolver’s bite-grip just as I heard the shotgun slamming shut behind me. Not even bothering to turn around, I twisted my head, shut my eyes, and thought hard. When I opened my eyes again I found myself again in the strange world of S.A.T.S.

‘There’s got to be an easier way to activate this,’ I thought, focusing on the unicorn.

Using a gun allows for more accurate targeting, while using a small gun, such as a pistol or a revolver, uses less A.P.

The little buffalo was right, while I’d had two attacks left with the case, the revolver gave me six. Decisions flittered in swarms across my mind, because to avoid getting shot I had to take him down or break his concentration. My eyes shifted from the unicorn’s gun, 63, to his armored body, 95, to his horn, 13. After a moment’s thought, I aimed for his throat and tongued the trigger twice. The spell faded and the revolver’s chin plate absorbed the recoil as a bullet lanced out, slicing through the side of the unicorn’s neck. The second shot went wide but the shotgun jerked up, going off as the buck fell back with a strangled cry. A shower of dust and chunks of plaster rained down from the ceiling, turning my world a bleak grey and white; which was probably the only reason the bullet from the hunting rifle missed my head.

“Did I get you, piggy? Did I? ”

Dropping to the floor, I wheezed and coughed as something dribbled down my chin. I looked down to find my blood mixing with the dust around my hooves. Deciding that there was nothing else for it, I wrapped a powder-coated fetlock around the knife handle, and pulled.

It turned out to be a very bad idea as the knife clattered to the floor along with too much blood to be safe. In my vision, a buffalo in a lab coat was telling me that I was near death, and suggested I ingest a healing potion from my pack. My head felt fuzzy and when I tried to say the item I wanted, my words came out in a wet, garbled jumble. From my position on the floor, I could hear the orange mare; she was yelling something about whether or not I was dead yet, and hoping that I wasn’t.

My voice wasn’t working, so with a hoof that shook awkwardly I used a dial to scroll through my items. When the healing potions finally came up I spat the gun out and shoved my head into my bag, biting down as soon as I felt something; my teeth cracked the seal and I chugged down the purplish liquid, trying to breath between gulps.

My wounds were still leaking blood and I could feel my skin shiver as muscle began to knit itself back together, but it was going too slowly. A quick look at the PipBull’s items menu told me the potion would take five seconds to work. I didn’t have five seconds. By now the dust cloud had settled enough to give the rifle-wielding mare a clear shot, and I could hear her trotting closer. Something, an idea, was forming in the back of my mind as I spat out the bottle. Ignoring the spit and grime, I fumbled the revolver back into my mouth and reached for the nearby corpse. Rolling to my back I hauled the dust-coated mare on top of me. The gash in her back squished against my hooves as I propped up her head, my hat now wedged over her lifeless eyes.

“Piggy?”

Time was up. The gun cracked and the head I was holding disappeared with a ‘splutch.’ The tattered hat hit the floor beside me as I shoved the severed neck aside to get a clear shot. The mare swore when she saw me and fumbled for a bullet on the belt dangling from her neck. Sighting along the barrel I took a deep breath, and just like that S.A.T.S. settled into place. Three shots zipped towards what little of her I could see above the divider; one missed, one cut through her fetlock, and the last one lodged itself between her left eye and cheekbone.

The S.A.T.S. faded and the orange mare crumpled, her weight dragging her back over the other side. My back slumped against the floor and I had the far off notion that I was breathing heavily through my nose, my teeth clenched so tightly on the bite-grip. Had I been breathing like this the whole time? I must have, given how much my chest hurt. Checking the meter in the corner of my eye showed that I wasn’t… what was the phrase Tiny had used?... that I wasn’t “half dead” yet.

A gurgling moan wavered up from behind the divider.

The E.U.A. told me there was still one pony left to deal with. Sighing, I heaved the corpse aside and wearily pushed myself to my hooves. Tongue still on the trigger, I limped over, my legs trembling with each step. Which was ridiculous, I wasn’t in danger of getting shot at any time soon. It was probably the loss of blood that was making me sway and I resolved to drink another bottle of water when I got the chance.

I reached the divider to find the buck sprawled on the floor, pinned there by the body of his friend. He had both hooves pressed against the side of his throat but it did little to help. Even from where I stood I could see the bubbles that gurgled out every time he tried to breathe.

“Heghlp mgheee,” he burbled.

I blinked, puzzled.

“Pleghase.” His horn flared weakly, the magic tugging at my gun.

He wanted me to kill him?

I had to resist the urge that had my tongue tightening on the trigger, my thoughts jockeying for supremacy. Why couldn’t I try to save him? I did have another health potion. Then again, if I healed him, what guarantee did I have that he wouldn’t try to kill me anyways? There was only one bullet in the cylinder, and with six in my speedloader I would be in trouble if I couldn’t find more anytime soon. And yet...

I watched as the thin pool spread out beneath him. His dirty, dark-blue coat had gone several shades lighter while I stood there. How much blood could a pony lose before there was no going back?

His mouth moved like a creature that lived in the water, the air escaping from the side of his throat in a hiss.

“Pleeeghasss-”

I sighed inwardly and brought the S.A.T.S. up to help me help him. Even without a targeting spell, one bullet was enough.

***

I spat the revolver on the counter and stretched my mouth, working the stiff kinks from my jaw as I pulled out a fresh cigarette and lit it.

What a mess this had turned out to be. They had tried to kill me the moment they’d spotted me, and with them dead I couldn’t find out anything about the grey unicorn. A curl of smoke left my nostrils as I stared at the far wall. Had the Watcher sent me here knowing this was going to happen? Why in Celestia’s name would somepony do that?

Whether he’d done it on purpose or not, I didn’t get much of a chance to think on it as a large, mustard colored earth pony trotted through the door. He had on the same piecemeal armor that the buck had been wearing, cobbled together from bits of leather, tires and flattened cans. His bloodshot eyes went wide when he saw the headless mare on the floor and then his mouth tightened as he spotted me.

I looked at him.

He looked at me.

We went for our guns.

The cig stung my cheek as I jammed my mouth onto the bite-grip. Ignoring the burn, I triggered S.A.T.S. and tongued the trigger.

*click*

'Shit.'

---------------------

Footnote: Level Up! (2)

New Perk: Luck of the Draw (1)– When you and an opponent act at the same time, you have a 10% chance to react first.

New Mission: Who Watches the Watcher?

Author's Note:

You've just read a fanfiction is based on a fanfiction called Fallout Equestria by the fascinating Kkat; a familiarity with the source material may aid your understanding references, jokes, and plotlines.

Props to Bobdat, ButtonstheMuse, TheLiterateDead, and my wife AnaxibiaClark for edits, suggestions, and help in crafting this story.

If you enjoyed this (or especially if you didn't) you may want to check the Fallout Equestria Side Stories post on Equestria Daily where there are MANY other tales to tell.

Want to jumpstart your own fic-of-a-fic? Head on over to the nice people at the Ponychan hatching grounds. They even provide a list of potential editors.

There's also the Fallout Equestria Side Stories thread on Ponychan

Cover-art credit where it belongs:

Credit for the desert foreground and background goes to [url= http://jrrhack.deviantart.com/art/Desert-background-281498640] Mr. Jrrhack

Mesas, cacti, shrubs, clouds, and various other bits and bobs are thanks to Mr. Boneswolbach

And of course Mr. DotRook who first came up with that nifty logo and has allowed so many of us to use it.

Couldn't have done it without you gentlemen

Update: As of 12/18/14 I have been restructuring the story, trimming the fat, and loosening the springs. She's still the same story, just better looking and easier to read...I hope.

Comments

[Deathpony]

well she is screwed

[S-Clark]

2827551
Mmmmaybe